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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872713">Why I Am</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spindlly/pseuds/Spindlly'>Spindlly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, I do not take credit for Goldenthal, Jimbo shares his past and immediately gets a hug from Penny, Muteness, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Child Abuse, She's a friends absolutely lovely OC :), Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:07:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spindlly/pseuds/Spindlly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimbo is sitting in the Third Rail having some toast and waiting for his adoptive mom to come home, and Charon's girlfriend gets concerned for him. He shares his past and immediately gets a hug because apparently he's worthy of affection??</p><p>(Angst and then Fluff, ft. Charon being a protective schmuck in the background)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charon (Fallout)/Female Lone Wanderer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Why I Am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Jimbo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hulking man looked up from his toast, single eye blinking as he turned to look for the speaker among the crowded bar, feeling tired. His size had a few people sneaking glances, and the movement only attracted more looks, since the people of Goodneighbor were only used to one especially huge man being in town at once. Two at once was unusual, so of course some were staring. It made sense some would want to talk to him, though he wasn’t exactly thrilled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Who the speaker was surprised him, though. Penny was standing beside him, her flannel discarded and her brow furrowed in concern as she looked up at him. Normally she was with Charon, and here she was, all by herself. Had something…?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question must have shown in his face, because her eyes lit up in understanding, and she gestured to her right, towards the side of the bar near the stage with the couches. “He’s right over there, don’t worry. I just have some questions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charon, the other aforementioned huge man in town, was lounging a few feet away on the couch with Penny’s flannel over his lap, expression deceptively relaxed and eyes half-lidded as he watched from afar. He met Jimbo’s look with a slow nod.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering if everything was alright,” Penny asked seriously, recapturing Jimbo’s attention as he turned his head back to look at her again. “You very rarely stay in town longer than a few days, and even rarely do you visit the Third Rail. I mean, you aren’t drinking, but still…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jimbo looked down at his toast, then back to her, nodding a little. He appreciated the concern, but he didn’t really have a way to explain without hurting his throat. He reached for one of the paper napkins nearby and fumbled around in his back pocket for a pen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I got a notepad, that might work better.” Penny pulled a pad of paper out of her own pocket and offered it to him, smiling encouragingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jimbo smiled, grateful for her thoughtfulness as he took the offered pad of paper and put his pen to paper, writing out a quick answer before handing the pad back for her to read.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m watching the house of a very close friend while she’s out doing errands. I was lonely, and she was out of bread. I don’t like the Third Rail a lot, but it's better than being alone right now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Penny’s face turned concerned again, and she looked back up at him worriedly as she handed him the pad back. “You don’t have to be all by yourself, Jimbo, you’re welcome to sit with us if you like. I don’t want you to be lonely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckled, the sound like crumbling gravel, and shook his head. She was so sweet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you. It's only for a little while. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded, still a little worried as she read his response. He could tell she wanted to ask one more question by the way she worried at her upper lip, but wasn’t sure if she should. He was pretty sure he knew what question it was, and normally, he wouldn’t answer it, but Penny… well, he trusted her, and Charon too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gently nudged her shoulder, tilting his head in obvious question. Encouraging her to ask the question, that it was alright, he wouldn’t be offended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Penny sighed, still not sure, but went ahead anyways, and touched the base of her own throat cautiously. “May I ask what… happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jimbo nodded, glad his assumption had been right. People always wanted to know. He wrote down one more question on the pad first though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's a really rough story. Are you sure?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She read it, and then nodded, squaring her shoulders determinedly. “Lay it on me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded one more time, then reached into the messenger bag at his side and pulled out a small, battered journal, giving it to her without further preamble. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The title read, quite simply… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why I Am.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My first memory is of fear.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t quite remember why or how I got into the situation, but my mother was screaming at me, face red and her mouth frothing as she shrieked things. I could feel my older sister behind me, and... as I look back on the memory now, I realize that I was protecting her, taking the brunt of our mother’s fury. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She struck me, once. It made my head hurt. I remember crying, not understanding why she hurt me, but once she was gone… my sister brushed away my tears and pulled me tight into a hug that made me feel a little better. Because I knew she was okay, it made the hurt all worth it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t realize I saved my sister from being killed by our mother until she told me so ten years later. But by then, I already knew just how bad it was, and I knew even if she had told me then, I wouldn’t have been prepared. I was only four years old.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The man my mother pretended to like had been put in charge of teaching me how to fight and hunt as soon as I was been able to walk confidently. I learned to hunt mole rats, radroaches, and then bigger prey like radstags and mirelurks, and by the time I was twelve, I could take down the biggest of predators with enough time to prepare and strategize. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I became the best hunter in the tribe, but it wasn’t because I liked it, or even wanted to. If the tribe didn’t get enough food, they turned on others, and the violence… The scars linger even now. I did his best to supply them with as much food as he could, hunting for days on end, but it never seemed to be enough. The bloodshed of other towns my tribe inevitably slaughtered along their travels was something I never took part of, but it… haunts me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My sister was the one that taught me peace. Ever since that first memory, when our mother beat us, my sister would hug me afterwards and thank god we were alive, and beg me not to grow up like the rest of the tribe. If you didn’t have to kill, she told me, don’t. Life is precious, and should be treated at such. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That sentiment was the death of her. I woke up to screaming one night and ran out to see her body collapsed at the gate like she was nothing but trash, the guardsmen still cleaning their blades. I learned the next morning that she’d been caught trying to warn a traveling caravan their tribe was targeting that they were coming, her head on a spike as a warning to others that treachery was not to be tolerated. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was fourteen at that point. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I learned to be sneaky, after that. Humanity was more the monster than any of the predators I had ever hunted, and my time stalking prey came in handy for when I snuck out to warn people my tribe was on its way. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Having finally figured out that my family, in all its violence, did its cruelty out of pleasure, I realized that no amount of supplies I brought would sate their bloodlust. But still I hunted, still I stayed, because this was my family, as horrible as it was. This was all I knew. And if I left, who would help the people they hurt?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I saved countless families in the following two years by sneaking out and warning them, and though the tribe suspected, they never caught me in the act. My sister’s death had made me wise, and night embraced me like the kind of mother I never had, sheltering me from any prying eyes. I learned how to fake a violent disposition during the day without actually hurting anyone either, and it served me well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But one night, I became cocky. The tribe was quieter than usual. I wasn’t as careful as I usually was. They lay in wait for me, and met my return with an ambush, men falling on me to pin and beat me. They called me weak, traitorous, and many more names I had never heard before. My own mother spat on me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then they gave me a drink that burned me from the inside out. Acid, I think. I screamed until I couldn’t anymore, my throat scorched and my voice stolen from me for my betrayal. And when I did not die, they left me there to suffer, as prey for the scavengers. Banished.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But then two people came back for me. The Healer, a kindly old man who tended to the wounds they had left on me, and a young woman who I did not know but who’s touch was comforting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I could not thank them. That had been robbed from me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I was alive, and so I stayed with them, and vowed in my silence to protect them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was now sixteen years old.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The old man was called Zachariah. The woman was called Lillian. They were good people, and the three of us traveled, helping those we came across and avoiding those that would cause us harm.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Zachariah was smart, but vindictive, and always nervous about the time. He taught me how to read and write, about history and medicine, and gave me a new name: Jimbo. The name everyone calls me now. Before, I was Davis, but this… this is better. Softer. Untarnished by memories. In return, I taught him how to be kinder, how to help in ways that weren’t threatening, how to look at things from a way that wasn’t cold. He showed me how to show the birds he was not a threat, and the Healer became sweeter and more gentle as the years passed before age took him. Lillian and I buried him under an old elm with a Stone Marker.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lillian, in contrast, was oh so kind. She taught me how to play the guitar, which spices would help make the things I caught taste better, and how to tell which way was North. She would sing songs that I now know by heart while I played with her, the two of traveling until she got sick and… I held her for three days, trying to help her get better before she passed away in my arms. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I traveled back to that elm to bury her beside Zachariah, and planted daffodils around their graves.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Goldenthal says it was probably Pneumonia. She wouldn’t stop coughing. I wish I had saved her, but I just didn’t know. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I kept going, and then got wind of my old tribe. The things I did when I found them again… I’m ashamed. There was nothing left of them, and for a while I was afraid I was becoming just like them. But the people I saved when I got there were so kind. They took me in and helped me pick myself up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>....I got a job as a courier a little ways after that, and it led me to the Commonwealth, and then to Goodneighbor, where I met the Doctor, Goldenthal. She’s the person who I wish I had as a mom. She’s so sweet and understanding, I sometimes think I don’t deserve it, but I try to repay her as much as I can.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her, and the people I’ve met here remind me it's not all bad. I have a home now. I have friends. I lost a lot and, in a way, gained even more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I feel safe, for the first time in my life. I can’t be more thankful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t talk, not without pain, but if I could… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I would sing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jimbo started to get a tad worried after Penny started to tear up. Was it too much? He’d written it a few weeks after the doctor accepted him into her home, figuring it would be a good explanation if people he really trusted asked, but now he was worried. Maybe it was oversharing? Social things were hard sometimes, darn, what it-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You big puppy,” Penny said emphatically, looking up at him tearfully. “You’ve been through all of this and you’re still- you’re still a big sweetheart! God, this is- this is horrible!! I want to hug you. Can I hug you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jimbo, startled and a little confused, nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Penny immediately handed him the small journal back, practically climbed into his lap, and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. “I am gonna hold you until you feel loved. Or until you want me to let go, whichever comes first. Gosh!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jimbo helplessly looked over at Charon, who had sat up and was giving him a look, and upon the silent nod of permission the ghoul gave, gingerly wrapped his arms around her a secure, but gentle hug. This was… new. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You big softy,” Penny murmured. “I bet Goldie’s proud of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart swelled at the thought. He hoped she was. He missed her...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...He hoped she came home soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until then, he would hold Penny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hoping she knew how grateful he was for her acceptance.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can thank @mytaxidermia on Tumblr, she inspired this story :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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